Page 34 of Sins of the Fathers
“That’s interesting. The ‘song’ is different here,” Grady mused.
“Yeah?”
Grady nodded. “Like a shimmer of bells.” He frowned, turning in a circle to observe the other mountains. “Out there, the bells are stronger.”
Dawson considered his comment. “That area is solid woods. People don’t go there, no roads. Makes sense the fae would like that.”
“And over there, I don’t like that song at all.” Grady pointed to a crest on the other side of the valley. “It’s eerie. Good place to avoid.”
“I always thought you were kidding when you made comments about the woods having a song,” Dawson said. “Turns out you and Knox both have a little something extra.”
“I never felt ashamed of mine or tried to hide it,” Grady replied. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t mess me up. Not sure what use it has, but most of the time it makes for a nice soundtrack to a walk in the woods.”
“How do you feel?” Dawson asked as they neared where the hikers had left the trail.
Grady sucked on his lip as he thought. “Pensive. I was in a pretty good mood—all things considered—when we left the parking lot. It’s a beautiful day, but my thoughts keep getting darker.”
“See any floating lights?”
Grady shook his head. “No. But I thought something pale and knee-height disappeared into the bushes.”
“Moon-eyed people?”
“That’s my guess. I could see how someone might follow to get a better look,” Grady replied.
“Picking up anything new on your personal imaginary radio station?” he asked, meaning the songs of the genius loci in the mountains.
Grady gave him a look. “Actually, yes. It’s like I tuned into an emo indie channel. Since you asked.”
They walked for a while in silence, and Dawson figured that Grady was either listening to the mountains or falling under the spell of the fae—maybe both.
“What did the lore say about where the rings were most likely?” Dawson asked, changing the subject. The longer they walked, the more he could see Grady fidgeting, even if his partner wasn’t aware of doing so.
“They’re often in shady clearings near running water,” Grady replied, sounding distracted. “They might be mushrooms or rocks, but they can also be swirl patterns in moss or a raised ring of taller grass in a lawn.”
Grady veered closer to the edge of the path as he spoke. Dawson reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back to the center of the trail.
“Whoa there! Don’t go wandering until we’ve found the circle,” Dawson warned.
Grady grew quiet and more distracted, making Dawson feel sure they were getting closer to their target.
“Wait—I think I see something.” Dawson grabbed Grady’s hand and tugged him to follow as they left the trail and headed into a clearing.
The meadow looked like an idealized painting. Shafts of light highlighted colored leaves, and the sun shining through the trees cast the whole area in an ethereal glow. Dawson heard running water and guessed a small creek flowed nearby.
“Careful,” Dawson said, making sure they didn’t step into a circle by accident. Grady followed along pliantly, confirming that the fae had already whammied him.
“There!” Dawson pointed to a mushroom ring just beyond a small hillock. He pulled Grady with him and dropped their duffel next to the circle, finding it difficult to unzip the bag while also keeping Grady from wandering off.
Until they reached the circle, Grady hadn’t resisted being led. Now, he started to pull away with increasing strength until he took a swing at Dawson, who let go to duck.
“Shit. They got you good, didn’t they?” Dawson muttered as Grady wandered off across the meadow as if answering a pied piper’s call.
Dawson grabbed the bag with the polished stones and poured them into his hand. They were the type of pretty rocks sold at tourist attractions, useful to keep on hand for spells and rituals.
Nothing in the lore said how many stones were needed to summon faeries back to their circle, so Dawson just dumped them all into the center, then he grabbed the salt and container of iron filings and waited. He kept glancing across the meadow to where Grady made his way toward the tree line, hoping his partner didn’t go much farther. Dawson didn’t dare leave the circle before he had completed the trap, but he dreaded having Grady out of sight.
The charged air felt like a portent of a summer storm. Dawson caught the scent of ozone, and the hair on his arms rose as the meadow fell silent. He saw what looked like a tide of fireflies streaming toward the mushroom circle from the depths of the forest. He hung back, ready with salt and iron, hoping the amulet and mojo bag protected him without calling attention to his position.
